


The Ghosts of Christmases Past

by elfin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:16:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfin/pseuds/elfin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean lay some ghosts to rest one Christmas</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ghosts of Christmases Past

**Author's Note:**

> set in season 8 or later, no spoilers for season 8 but does contain spoilers up to the end of season 5

The coloured fairy lights flash around the half-decent tree that Dean’s scared up this year, piles of snacks on the low table, glasses of Sam’s patented eggnog half-emptied alongside. 

“Presents!” Sam says, and Dean turns sideways on the couch, sits cross legged like he used to as a kid, and grins with glee as Sam reaches over the arm of the couch behind him and hands him a small but perfectly wrapped box with a blue ribbon on it. No newspaper, no cheap sticky tape. Dean takes it and stares.

“Shit, Sammy... I thought we were doing this as usual.”

“We are.” He smiles a little self consciously. “Believe me, it’s exactly as usual.”

“Apart from the gold wrapping paper and the gay bow.” But he can’t hide his excitement at being given a real, honest-to-God Christmas present, the first one he can remember. 

Sam’s beaming. “Open it.”

He almost doesn’t want to. He wants to savour the moment of mystery. But he picks the perfectly cut tape away at the corners and opens the wrapping carefully, doesn’t tear into it like he usually would. Under the festive paper there’s a gilt-edged blue box, three inches by three inches.

“Aw, Sam. I accept.” His brother leans over, slaps his arm with the back of his hand and it’s with some trepidation that he opens the box; this is a real present and he wants to treat it with respect. Then he stares at what’s inside. For a full minute he says nothing, he can’t think of anything to say, and Sam takes that as a bad sign.

“Dean, I’m sorry... I thought enough time had passed....”

“Sam... how...?”

“I picked it up out of the trash when you were in the parking lot.”

“You’ve had it all this time?”

Sam shakes his head. “Never knew when I was going to take a trip downstairs or up and things get lost, so I took it to Dad’s lock-up, left it in the safe there.” Dean looks up, at his baby brother, tears in his eyes. “I never meant to upset you.”

“No, I’m not upset... I love it, Sam. I’ve always loved it. And I’m the one who should be sorry.” He lifts the coiled black cord from the blue box until the amulet comes off the velvet cushion and watches it as it swings gently. “I should never have dumped it. I was just... disillusioned. It felt like the end and there was no hope, nothing I could do....” Dropping the black leather cord around his neck, he looks down at the brass face against his dark T-shirt, getting used to its weight again, achingly familiar. He hadn’t realised until now how much he missed it. Finally lifting his head he says, “Thank you,” and means so much more.

Sam lifts his long legs to the couch, mirroring Dean’s position. “My turn,” he says excitedly, and Dean glances at the newspaper wrapped gifts he bought from a dime store because that’s what they always do. But Sam’s broken with traditional and he should too. Reaching out his arm he brushes them away across the table and leans forward to wrap his arms around Sam’s neck. Sam goes with it without question, hugs him back until Dean’s ready to let go. 

Then he puts his hands on Sam’s denim-clad knees and says, “I want to give you something special too. I want to tell you everything, everything I’ve ever kept from you, everything that’s come between us; all those secrets I’ve kept that have pushed us apart. 

“Dean....” Sam’s voice breaking on that one word is enough to reassure Dean that he’s doing the right thing, how much this means to him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” It’s going to hurt like crazy, but it’s going to be worth it. “I guess I should start with hell....”


End file.
